


Sore Loser

by wanderseeing



Category: The Avengers (2012), The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: Fluff, Humor, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-01-17
Updated: 2012-01-17
Packaged: 2017-10-29 17:15:05
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,087
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/322232
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wanderseeing/pseuds/wanderseeing
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Tony wasn't sure if he bet against the wrong person, made the wrong bet, or maybe even both, but, either way, he was definitely screwed.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Sore Loser

**Author's Note:**

> So my friend, who ships Tony/Steve but has never actually READ any fics about them (strange, right? :O), so I offered to write one, and asked her to give me some prompts that would help. :)) She gave me several, but I picked this one because the mental image o Tony Stark in an Eeyore costume is too hilarious to pass up (if anyone can draw that, I will worship you. XD).
> 
> Anyhoo! Hope you enjoy this! First fanfic for this fandom, so go gentle. Feedback, kudos and all those things are greatly appreciate and make a happy authors, and happy authors make more fanfics. :)

\-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

 

“Incoming call from Clint Barton, sir.”

The picture of a drunk Clint passed out on the couch cuddling his bow and arrows flashed in front of Tony, covering the holographic jet he was trying to remodel.

“Screen it. I’m in no mood for nagging.”

There was a brief pause before the telltale beeps of a call being accepted echoed around the lab.

“OI. STARK. WHERE ARE YOU?”

Tony groaned.

“I hate you, JARVIS.”

“Of course you do, sir.” The AI replied blandly.

“STARK. STARK? STAAAARK??”

 Tony rolled his eyes and pressed a button on his earpiece before answering.

“What is it, Barton?”

God, why was it so noisy in the background? Tony closed his eyes, massaging his forehead with one hand as he swiveled his chair around to face his desk.

“STARK! DUDE, WHERE THE HECK ARE YOU? YOU’RE 20 MINUTES LATE AND FURY’S PISSED AS HELL.”

Sighing, the billionaire pinched the bridge of his nose in an effort to somehow quell the unbearable pounding in his head that made Clint’s yelling sound _way_ louder than it already was.

“Lost track of time, sorry. And why are you yelling?”

“BETTER GET HERE SOON BEFORE THE PIRATE GOES OVER THERE TO DRAG YOU HERE INSTEAD, AND WHY AM I WHAT?”

“Yeah, yeah, I got it. _Yelling_. _You’re **yelling**_. I’m not **_deaf_**.”  
“I’M SERIOUS, HE’S ABOUT TO BLOW HIS TOP. SORRY, I’M OUTSIDE, COULDN’T GET ANY DAMN SIGNAL IN THE BUILDING, COULD YOU FIX MY PHONE AFTER THE MEET---“

Tony was about to worry about the abrupt cutting-off and the silence that followed until a familiar voice took over,

“ **TONY, SON OF STARK! IT IS I, THOR ODINSON**!”

Oh, _Christ no_. Not Thor. _Anyone_ but Thor right now.

“…hello, Thor. No need to say your whole name, we’ve been team mates long enough for me to know it.”

His earpiece crackled from the intensity of the volume of Thor’s voice.

“ **DULY NOTED, MAN OF THE IRON SUIT! THE FURY HAS SENT ME TO AIDE THE EYE OF THE HAWK IN CONTACTING YOU, FOR HIS PATIENCE SEEMS TO BE WEARING THIN. YOUR PRESENCE HERE IS QUITE URGENTLY NEEDED, MY FRIEND. WE HAVE BEEN WAITING FOR YOU TO ARRIVE, FOR WE CANNOT LET THE COUNCIL COMMENCE WITHOUT YOU**.”

The Asgardian boomed into his ear, which Tony was sure must be _bleeding_ by now.

“I got it, thanks, Thor.”

There was no response for a moment, just muffled sounds Tony’s aching head couldn’t verify, before Clint’s voice came back into clarity.

“I’ll handle it from here, thanks Mr. Thunder. Tony? You still there?”

“Nope.”

“Haha, aren’t you funny today. _Anyway_ , I’m back inside since the signal’s stabilized for a bit, but my phone still needs fixing. Oh, and Fury’s **furious** , so are you heading here, or what?”

“I’m coming, I’m _coming_. I’ll just get you a new phone later. Give me 5 minutes. Geez.”

Red and gold metal gleamed in his peripheral vision, catching his attention. A wide grin (more of a grimace, really, but considering there were jackhammers pounding away at his head, it was the best he could do) broke out on his face as an idea sprouted and grew very quickly.

“Actually, make that 3.”

 

\-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

 

Fury was not a patient man, and, unfortunately for the infamous Iron _Ass_ , he had quite a temper too.

“Where **IS** he?” He growled out, tapping his fingers on the metal round table in the Avengers briefing room as Hawkeye stepped back in.

Clint sat back down in his seat, rubbing his eyes tiredly.

“He said he’d be here in 3 minutes, but I called him around 3 minutes ago, so, technically,” he yawned, “He should be here right about….”

The door barged open. “’Bout time you got off your lazy ass. Had a goodnight’s sleep, princes---what the _hell_ are you wearing?”

 

\-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

 

Tony was _seriously_ not in the mood for this. Or for anything for that matter. Why didn’t he just feign sickness and stay in bed the rest of the day? (Right, because Fury would’ve come a’knocking on his door and, really, being in bed and trying to rest while being yelled at was worse than still standing _and_ being yelled at.)

“My suit, obviously, unless you’ve forgotten what it looks like, which is quite sad because I don’t think you’re so old to have _that_ bad a memory---“Shut up. You know exactly what I mean. Wasn’t I clear enough when I said to come in _normal_ clothes?”

Fury said, gesturing to the others sitting at the table in casual outfits.

“I…uhh….thought to be prepared…you know…since we’re going on a mission in several hours.”

Tony saw one eyebrow rise. Of all the times to run out of excuses, _why now_? Fury’s one good eye narrowed, glancing quickly at the clock above the doorway before sliding his suspicious gaze back to him. When Fury turned around to distribute the data folders, Tony felt relief wash over him.

“Uhuh. Whatever. **Sit down**. I only have half an our to brief all of you, no thanks to Mr. I’ve-got-all-the-time-in-the-world.”

Tony sat, the chair sinking dangerously under his weight, as Fury started the briefing, pointing out the location where the ( _Giant_ _termites_? Was he **serious**?) insects were buried underground, and stating the time the creatures were going to crawl out and look for food, a.k.a. attack the closest helpless town/village. He listened intently for once, trying to ignore the smug smile that had been threatening to break out on Steve’s face when he saw him first enter the room. Damn him, he knew _exactly_ why he was in his armor, and he wasn’t about to let him forget it.

 

\-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

 

“If you’re going to say ‘I told you so.’,”

Clint shot an arrow, quickly setting up another one right after, aiming for his next target,

“Best do it now while my hands are too busy to do anything about it.”

He shot two arrows in speedy succession.

“Nah. I’ll save it.”

Tony said before firing a repulsor blast at the giant, mutated termite that was about to take a good snap at Natasha.

“Besides, I think it tortures you more when I gloat about it in silence than rubbing it in your face up front.”

Another repulsor blast.

“Well, _I’m_ sorry I didn’t know these things were going to attack 3 hours ahead of time. Sheesh.”

2 more arrows.

“Bet you’re going to wear your gear to the next mission-briefing, huh?”

The Black Widow appeared in between them, back turned as she threw several knives into the monster just about to get them from behind.

“The both of you shut up.”

“Right-o, ma’am.”

“Roger that.”

She glanced at the both of them, giving a brief nod, before grabbing her knives and slipping away as silently as she arrived to help Bruce and Thor (the two seeming to have a little too much fun with smashing the insects around).

“Avengers! Round up!”

Tony looked over to where Steve was holding his own against several of the things, slicing through them with one throw of his shield before grabbing it from the air when it bounced off a tree and flew back, pointing down before jumping into the massive hole in the ground.

“Tell me he didn’t just do that.”

“…he didn’t just do that.”

Tony sighed, closing his eyes briefly and unsuccessfully trying to ignore the pain in his head.

“Come on, then.”

Clint grabbed onto the handles on the back of the armor specifically designed to help carry people, and they flew over to the edge of the hole the Captain had just disappeared into.

“I’ll go in first. If we’re not back in 10 minutes, send Thor. Or Bruce. Whoever’s more than willing to help with squishing the Queen.”

Clint nodded without looking at him, concentrated on keeping back the swarm of clicking pincers and gnashing teeth. Tony took one look into the darkness and jumped in.

 

\-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

 

Okay, so maybe he may have underestimated the seriousness of fighting a behemoth termite **_Queen_** while having a really bad hangover.

Darkness was dancing around the edges of his vision, and he couldn’t really make out JARVIS’ voice telling him that the suit had taken some serious damage from being slammed more than several times into the tunnel walls. His head was killing him, and he felt numb from the neck down. Oh boy, Fury was going to absolutely brain him for this.

“Tony? Tony! You okay in there?! Tony!”

He tried to focus on Steve’s voice, but his eyes were starting to close of their own accord, and his body felt so heavy, and, honestly, after getting knocked about by a mutated insect, all he really wanted to do was sleep.

“Still not answering?”

“No. I think he might have passed out.”

“Better press that emergency button. You know where it is?”

Wait. Emergency button? Tony felt a distant sense of panic at hearing that.

““It should be somewhere near the neck area. Or the chestplate.”

Oh. _Oh._ **That** Emergency button. The one he installed in case the armor shut down and it had to be opened from the outside.

He cursed his ability to think ahead.

“Don’t…..don’t open…”

God, what was the use? They couldn’t hear him anyway. He was so in for it when the armor fell open. He could just imagine the expressions on their faces…

“There! Found it! Hopefully, it hasn’t been damaged as well, or that’d be pretty bad.”

Lesson learned. Never bet with Captain America, the Golden Boy of the USA. Never ever.

Because karma’s a pretty frikking bitch afterwards.

He let his eyes fully close, too tired to worry about everything. He’ll deal with the teasing and the pictures and the ‘Man, we’re never going to let you forget this’ taunting when he woke up.

 ‘ _Let them see, and let me rest, I say_.’ He thought wearily.

Just as he slipped into unconsciousness, he felt the armor disassemble around him, hazy figures above him.

“…is that…that’s an…. _what the fuck_?”

 

\-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

 

Tony woke to the familiar drab-white walls of one of the recovery rooms in SHIELD’s medical wing, feeling like he just got run-over by truck.

“Sleep well?”

He turned his head a bit to look at Steve, whose arms were crossed and back ramrod-straight to try and look stern and imposing, but the smug smile on his face ruined the effect.

“Relatively. How long’ve I been out?”

“Give or take…probably around 4 hours. You took a pretty bad beating, surprisingly.”

“Yeah, well, fighting plus hangovers equals slow reaction time and low stamina.”

“Of course.”

Tony could just _feel_ the smugness rolling off the jerk in **_waves_**.

“Just say it, for fuck’s sake.”

Steve actually had the gall to try and look innocent, trying to wipe off that crap-eating grin on his face. Uh-uh. He wasn’t going to let him off easy. Not when he was already taking the severely unjust punishment.

“Say what? I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

That **sadist**. He was doing that on purpose. He _wanted_ Tony to say it himself.

“ _You_ are a liar and a cheat. Just spare me the pain and say it to my face already, because I swear to _God_ that if I see that damn smirk on your face again, I’m going to **explode**.”

Steve laughed, raising his hands in mock-surrender.

“Not going to say anything. And stop painting me as the bad guy, it’s totally not my fault.”

“Yes it is, you damn evil… _villain_ , you.”

“Definitely not! I won fair and square and you know it! Was it _really_ my fault that you were ignorant about my not being able to get drunk and making a bet that you could hold liquor better than me?”

“ **Yes**. **It really is**.”

“No need to sound so bitter, now. Besides, I think your punishment suits you quite well.”

Tony pointedly looked away, huffing in annoyance.

A hand petted him on the head, and he turned his head to try and burn holes through Steve with his best ‘I’m-seriously-going-to-murder-you-right-now’ glare, which had no effect whatsoever on the blonde man.

Steve playfully poked Tony in the cheek, chuckling.

“Actually, I find it quite cute. I think I’ll ask Natasha to send me some copies of the pictures she took of you in your Eeyore costume and make it my wallpaper.  Did I mention she forwarded some to Ms. Potts already?”

“…..you’re a _complete asshole_ , you know that?”

“Yes, yes, I love you too.”


End file.
